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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885132">Rapture</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/guidingkeys/pseuds/guidingkeys'>guidingkeys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Parenting Shenanigans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:21:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/guidingkeys/pseuds/guidingkeys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren couldn’t think of a better way for his life to turn out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss &amp; Ymir Fritz, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Eren Yeager, Ymir Fritz &amp; Eren Yeager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>195</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rapture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is came to me while watching Charlie Berens’ “Every Husband in IKEA” video + I combined it with like two/three prompts I found on a tumblr list. This is so dumb and cheesy but I had to get it out of my head.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They had one mission. Buy a crib.</p><p>Should be easy enough. Depending on the factors.</p><p>Ymir’s former crib was on its last leg, almost literally. There was only so much duct-tape and super glue Eren could stick to the legs before they buckled again. Only so much oil he could lather into the gears before it started squealing like a pig again. Historia was afraid if Ymir jumped too hard it would officially collapse.</p><p>It was his own fault. He’d been a rowdy toddler, bouncing on it furiously, screaming to be taken out. He was glad Ymir wasn’t like that. She was more like Zeke had been, according to Grisha. Calm. Easily to negotiate with—for a toddler. It’d been Zeke’s crib too, ten years prior. Eren figured Dad had thrown it away, but their old man had safely shuffled it away in personal stage, collecting dust until the day he could pass it onto his grandchildren.</p><p>The day came sooner than any of them anticipated.</p><p>“Eren. C’mon,” Historia chided, tugging on the sleeve of his scoop-neck sweater. “Don’t take her out. She needs to learn—”</p><p>Eren frowned at Historia, cutting her off.</p><p>He unbuckled the safety belts, plucking a tearful Ymir out of the seat. She always hated sitting in these things, even carseats were a problem unless one of them sat next to her. She instantly quieted, pudgy cheeks tear stained. Eren wiped them away with a thumb, those blue eyes she’d inherited from her mother blinking at him in appreciation. Historia would think it was her being smug.</p><p>“I have two arms for a reason,” He said, balancing their one-year-old comfortably on his hip. “Might as well keep putting them to good use.” Eren made a clenching gesture with his free arm. “I really only need one to carry her, anyway.”</p><p>His girlfriend of almost three years shoved the Blockbuster knock-off cart forward, her polka dot maxi dress sweeping behind her like a cape. “Okay, Eren.”</p><p>Oh, boy. She was annoyed.</p><p>She wasn’t a morning person, but this, leaving at the ass-crack of dawn to get to IKEA, had been <em>her</em> idea. If anyone should be grumpy, it’s him. He’d worked an almost sixteen-hour shift last night and he was exhausted, running on coffee and four hours of sleep.</p><p>But she made a promise to him, and he’d made a prior commitment to be here. So here he was, though he kind of just wanted to find a bed in the Bedroom section, flop on it, and take a nap, cradling both of them like he usually did at home.</p><p>“What, don’t be so jealous,” Eren stalked after her, squeezing through a four-person family lounging in the model of a rustic living room; the two kids sprawled on the couch, fighting to keep their eyes open, their parents openly discussing the price of the couch. “I can pick you up too, if you want.”</p><p>She shot him a flimsy glare over her shoulder. Historia shook her head, still trying to get as far away from him as she could, failing miserably because of the slow walkers. “I seriously can’t take you anywhere anymore,” He heard her say.</p><p>He rifled up to Historia, Ymir fisting his sweater, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Aw, what’d I do now?”</p><p>“What don’t you do,” Historia muttered, leaning on her forearms folded over the plastic, yellow handlebar. “is the better question.”</p><p>“I could be a lot worse.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Historia sighed, eyes sliding closed. “I can’t believe I have to know you forever sometimes.”</p><p>Eren never expected to be a dad so young—two months shy from the big twenty-one, and he’d already done almost everything backwards. He’d wanted to finish college, get the engineering degree, establish a career. <em>Maybe</em> get married once that was all done. All those ideas heaved right out the window, crashing onto the sidewalk, when Historia agreed to room with him. Grisha bought him an apartment not too far from campus, and with Armin across the country and Mikasa deciding it was better if she roomed with Sasha… Things… escalated.</p><p>He couldn’t help it. He’d liked Historia since high school. He just never thought she liked him too.</p><p>When Historia revealed she was pregnant, leaving never crossed his mind. He’d never been one of those guys who ran when things got tough. He knew he’d never leave her. The pregnancy had been tough on Historia, though. But now that Ymir was here—living, breathing, laughing, crying, so easy to scoop up and cradle whenever he wanted, barely able to talk yet aside from yelling a few words, and some bubbled gibberish… It was nothing but the sweetest rapture. Even on those not so good days.</p><p>Eren couldn’t think of a better way for his life to turn out.</p><p>If it were up to him, he’d be a stay-at-home-Dad without a second thought. He’d never leave her side unless he had to. <em>Maybe one day</em>, he mused, poking her cheek, which made Ymir squirm in his grasp, <em>when Historia’s a famous dancer and makes a lot more money</em>*.</p><p>He pat Historia’s head. “You make it sound like such a bad thing.”</p><p>Ymir reached out, petting Historia’s hair. “Mama,” She cooed, like trying to pacify her too. “Mama...”</p><p>Her mother softened—just the slightest bit, shoulder’s bristling. He was still a little green in the cheeks that her first word had been ‘mama’. He’d lost a bet with her—laundry duty, usually hers, for two whole months. She used that time to nap.</p><p>All those online articles about how it was more likely for a baby to spill ‘dada’ first lied to him.</p><p>He joined Ymir in petting her hair. “Relax, Historia. She barely weighs a thing,” He tried to dissuade, squeezing her shoulder. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”</p><p>Her soft eyes lifted from Ymir. She puffed her cheeks at him. “That’s not why I’m annoyed and you know it,” She suddenly veered the cart to the left, scuffling away from him, from his hand, breezing through another model of a futuristic living room that was way better fit for a movie set with polished mahogany wood and a deep black couch. She merged back into the main path, the one with the faded yellow arrows painted on the linoleum guiding them onwards. “The problem is that you’re spoiling her?”</p><p>“Yeah, <em>and</em>?” He minded his long strides, recalling the amount of times he’d accidentally tripped Historia whenever he walked behind her. Sad. He enjoyed a good look at her butt, and this dress fit her nicely. “We were both spoiled brats going up. Don’t you think our kid’s gonna end up, I dunno, <em>the same</em>?”</p><p>“God, I hope not,” Historia shook her head, the path curving. It’s like <em>Alice in Wonderland</em> and <em>Narnia</em> had a baby and IKEA was the result, lots of grays and blues and yellows, twisting paths, hard to find shortcuts, easy for someone—Historia—to lose themselves in. “After all those stories your mom and Mikasa told me about you…” She trailed off.</p><p>His first instinct was to be offended, but… “Okay. I see your point. I was an awful kid.” Eren agreed, hiking Ymir higher. She fit her head into the crook of his neck, jammed her thumb in her mouth. Eren pried it out, her small hand gripping tight to his thumb. “Still not putting her down, though. Maybe in a few years.” He grinned.</p><p>Historia huffed. “But we have to teach her now that she can’t always get what she wants, aka—” Historia gestured at him, up and down. “—being carried everywhere.”</p><p>“… But she’s <em>so</em> cute, Historia,” He squeezed Ymir, and she squirmed. “I can’t help it. How can I say ‘no’ to this face?” Eren squished her cheeks, and she squirmed again, pushing against him, squealing <em>no, Dada! no!</em>.</p><p>Even at a year old, she was a clone of Historia—all wispy hair and fair skin and big, blue eyes and a heart-shaped face, a quiet yet sassy demeanor. Carla argued that Ymir had his nose and ears, and Historia even said Ymir’s hands and feet were his, too. Eren didn’t see it. He didn’t mind, either.</p><p>Historia eyed him, her hardened face gradually blossoming into a smile. “You’re such a pushover. Hopeless.” She leaned into him, Ymir reaching out for Historia’s hair again. “She’s gonna run circles over you when she’s older, and I’m gonna laugh.”</p><p>He looped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Ymir smelled like apple shampoo and baby powder but Historia still wore that perfume he really liked, sweet cream like the sweetest desert. “Yeah, I know.”</p><p>Historia shook her head against him, but he could tell she was still grinning. “Still doesn’t negate the fact that I gotta know you forever.”</p><p>“Stop making it sound like a bad thing,” He pouted into her hair. “You love me.”</p><p>She pulled away from him, yanking his ear. “Unfortunately for me, lucky for you!”</p><p>He sneered at the side of her head while Historia rooted through her purse, and pulled out her iPhone, distracted by whatever she was trying to do. Probably browse social media.</p><p>His eyes flit across the remaining section of the Living Room showroom. He eyed a couch within another futuristic living room model. It was by the main aisle, so Eren walked over, touching the material. He didn’t like leather much but the slate grey color was nice. Ymir leaned forward, wanting to touch it herself. He allowed her, holding onto her waist while she giggled deliriously at being almost dangled.</p><p>“We should get a bigger sofa.”</p><p>He didn’t think Historia heard him until she said, “… What for? What’s wrong with our sofa?”</p><p>Eren rolled a shoulder, bringing Ymir back to him. She made a disgruntled sound and Eren made his way back over to Historia. “Well, Reiner didn’t fit on our sofa. I barely fit on it.”</p><p>”Who gives a fuck about Reiner?”</p><p>Eren clapped a hand over Ymir’s ear. “Shh! Stop cursing so much!” But it was too late, Ymir was already testing out the word. <em>Ffff</em>. <em>Ck</em>. He released a groan while Historia smirked. “I’m just saying. Maybe we’ll have people over again sometime.”</p><p>“Like... who?” She probed, her arched brows furrowing deeply. “Oh, don’t tell me Reiner’s bothering you again for a place to crash. I thought he moved across the state?”</p><p>”Yeah, he’s gone. I think.” He wasn’t entirely sure. Eren hadn’t spoken to Reiner in about a year or so. “It’s nothing like that.”</p><p>”Okay…” Historia was still confused, the three of them entering the Workspace showroom. “Then who? We don’t hang out with anyone anymore.”</p><p>For some reason, that almost made him laugh. “Yeah, I know,” He half-smiled. “but Connie’s been bugging me lately about coming over. Armin called me the other night, said he might be coming down in a couple weeks for Christmas break.”</p><p>The family in front of them shuffled off to the side, ogling one of the workspace models with a sleek black desk. Historia rushed forward to take their place, ready to be at their destination already—which according to the map above them, which looked like a timeline, would be at the very end of this floor. </p><p>“Huh. Connie never wanted to hang out with us when I was pregnant,” Historia said, crisp. “Reiner came around, but only because we had a couch he could crash on. Hell, even Frieda hasn’t come over in months. She barely responds to my texts.”</p><p>Mikasa was traveling the world with her newly discovered aunt now. Armin was studying at Harvard. Jean was doing who knows what with his mother’s family business. Connie and Sasha were the only ones still within proximity. That Eren knew of.</p><p>“School and work’s got them busy, Historia. It’s life.” Eren shrugged. “Just call her if you really wanna talk to her.”</p><p>“More like people still think pregnancy is like a plague,” She countered, pursing her lips. “Or… They think we’re completely different people now that we have a kid—which is… sort of true?” Historia glanced at him for some sort of reassurance, her eyes dropping to Ymir. She reached out, caressed her cheek. “Priorities shift and all that.”</p><p>“Yeah, that <em>is</em> true,” He admitted. “Or maybe our kid’s just too cute for them to handle.” Eren tucked his chin on top of Ymir’s head, while Historia smiled up at him. “I wouldn’t mind if one of them babysat, though. Give us a night off.”</p><p>The implication wasn’t lost on her, but Historia’s smile disappeared, a doubtful look crossing her eyes. “I don’t think that’s what Connie had in mind when he reached out to you.”</p><p>”Duh. I’m just saying. I really would love an uninterrupted nap. Among other stuff.”</p><p>Historia’s lip twitched. ”I’d trust Mikasa to babysit, but definitely not Connie. I wouldn’t even trust Jean.” Eren nodded vigorously at that one. “Or Sasha. Or Reiner.”</p><p>”What about Annie?”</p><p>They stared at each other. Broke into a laugh. Annie would have a <em>blast</em> babysitting their cat. <em>Eren’s</em> kid? Not so much.</p><p>Historia calmed enough to continue, “And Armin’s… Armin’s smart but he’s questionable when it comes to anything practical. I don’t think he could handle looking after Ymir, even though she’s an easy kid.”</p><p>“Oh, c’mon, Armin wouldn’t be *that* bad.” Historia flashed him a flat look. “Okay. So, we both know I wouldn’t trust Jean, but Armin could… figure out how to change a diaper pretty quick. And remember to feed her. We just gotta give him a schedule.” She semi-agreed with him there. “And Jean would... know how to keep her entertained. He’s got a funny looking face, it’s only natural. And Connie and Sasha… Even Reiner… Yeah, I can’t say how’d they fare. At least they’d remember to feed her? But, obviously, my sister’s the best choice out of all of them.”</p><p>“Who’d be better though,” Historia grinned mischievously. poking his arm. “Frieda or Mikasa?”</p><p>“Huh. That’s a tough one.”</p><p>“I put money on my sister!”</p><p>“Of course you would,” Eren snorted, then thought. “But I can’t say.”</p><p>“Aw, don’t be mad ‘cause you’ll lose.”</p><p>“It’s not only that,” Eren rolled his eyes. He really should stop betting against Historia. “I just really don’t know.”</p><p>“Wow,” She poked his side, but Eren wasn’t ticklish. Not like her. “No loyalty to your family!”</p><p>He tilted his head to the side. “You’re my family now, Historia.”</p><p>She smiled. He’d been thinking about changing her title. <em>We already have a baby and we live together, what’s getting married?</em> Eren reasoned, but he wasn’t sure if Historia was ready. He wasn’t sure how to broach the topic, if it was the right time.</p><p>After Workspace was the Kitchen showcase. There was nothing for them in there. They passed through in comfortable silence, trailing behind this slow-ass family, Black Eyed Peas jilting through the speakers overhead. Ymir was so quiet, Eren thought she’d dozed off. But her lashes fluttered against his skin, signaling her consciousness, her breathing not quite that even for sleep. There were several kids around the area, wailing at the top of their lungs. A mom had just stopped a few paces ago to tend to her sobbing daughter after she’d taken one of the white boxes they’d snatched from the aisle away from them.</p><p>He was glad he rescued Ymir from the seat.</p><p>Historia pursed her lip down at her phone, scrolling through Instagram. She followed a lot of models and makeup artists, and the occasional tattoo artist, though she had none yet. She switched back over to the app as they passed through the threshold indicating they were in the Dining Rom showcase. <em>Soon</em>.</p><p>“We’re only here for a crib,” She said, but it sounded more like she was reminding herself of that fact.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>She turned her head, narrowing her eyes. “<em>Only</em> a crib, Eren.” Historia paused. “Okay, and <em>maybe</em> I’ve been looking at beds. For her. For when she gets older.”</p><p>“I didn’t agree or disagree, Historia.”</p><p>Historia fluttered her dark lashes, waiting.</p><p>Eren rubbed the back of his head. IKEA was a massive, perfectly square building with an endless array of appliances, furniture, and everything in between. Absolutely perfect for Historia—who was always replacing a lamp, draping new towels on the rack, throwing out old rugs, like, every other week. Her obsession dwindled when Ymir came along but it never stopped her from online window shopping, creating wish lists.</p><p>“… I’m just saying that you tend to go a little overboard every time we go furniture shopping.”</p><p>Her lips flattened into a thin line. “Well, who’s the one that gets lost all the fucking time and leaves me alone?”</p><p>“Don’t curse in front of her.” He warned. Historia stuck her tongue at him. Eren just his chin at the pink muscle. “Watch it, I can put that to good use.”</p><p>Her mouth clamped shut, cheeks flaming.</p><p>Eren laughed, rubbing her head. Ymir followed his lead, her tiny baby hand on top of his. “And I don’t get lost,” He clarified, “You’re the one who always leaves my sight. Do you know how hard it is to find you little people in big crowds like this?” Eren gestured around with a finger.</p><p>Historia glared up at him from under strands of her hair. Even with her wedges, she was still considerably shorter than him. Eren twirled a lock of her hair, tucked it behind her ear. She seemed to appreciate that, but he ruined it by pinching her nose—just to be extra annoying.</p><p>“Have I ever told you you scrunch your nose in the cutest way when you get mad?” He gushed, mockingly. “You’re like a hamster.”</p><p>Historia scowled, pushing his hand away. “I better be a cute hamster.”</p><p>”The world’s worst and cutest hamster.” He confirmed.</p><p>She seemed satisfied with his statement. ”Just follow the arrows if you wander off again.” The wheels of the cart squealed when she abruptly pushed it into the section on their right, her perfume sweeping with her.</p><p>“I won’t this time.” He promised.</p><p>She ignored him, throwing a hand. “And don’t you even think about calling me on the intercom again. It’s embarrassing! Use your phone like a normal person.”</p><p>Eren shrugged though she couldn’t see. “I left it at home.”</p><p>“See, I can’t take you anywhere! Grab a map!”</p><p>“I don’t need a map. Just stop trying to get away from me whenever we go out.”</p><p>But Historia was already making a bee-line for the floor to ceiling wall display of lighting fixtures for the dining room, ignoring him. He followed her until she stopped, right there, the shelves loaded with white lights. What was it this place and <em>white</em>?</p><p>He also didn’t like the way Historia was just standing there, taking in each one that looked exactly the same with a keen interest. Bad sign, if he ever saw one.</p><p>”Hey. Historia.” He nudged her arm with his elbow.</p><p>”Eren.” She strained, kneading her temples. “Don’t. Please—“</p><p>”This place is <em>lit</em>.”</p><p>Historia eyes squeezed shut, tilting her head to the ceiling. She breathed in deeply, restraining herself. “I should’ve left you at home.”</p><p>”Definitely. But you know I would’ve gotten mad if you left me there. You promised me cinnamon rolls.” Ymir tried reaching for a string hanging from one of the lamps but Eren slid back. His amusement dissolved when he caught sight of what she was doing on the app. “But I thought we were only here for a crib?”</p><p>“It never hurts to look,” Historia shrugged. “Right?”</p><p>He shook his head. Ymir sighed, sensing his pain. He took in each light—ranging from small lamps for coffee tables and nightstands, to intricate glass encasings for fans—with an appraised brow. *Who needs all these fancy lights for a dining room?* Then he recalled Historia’s comment about two weeks ago. She wanted to change the dining room apart; the fan, the table, the chairs. Her ragdoll cat, Sonny, loved using the legs as a scratching post.</p><p>“But now that I think about it,” Historia mused out loud, looking up, the lights bouncing off in her eyes. She pursed her lips, pivoted on her heel, and took off. Eren scrambled to follow after her. “We need a new dresser—for Ymir.”</p><p>Eren glared down at the back of her head. Crib. Bed. Dresser. “I’m the one who spoils her, huh?”</p><p>Historia shrugged again, not looking at him. “A girl can never have too many clothes.”</p><p>“Geez.” He muttered. But it was true. He’d known Historia since fifteen, started dating her a few months into the first semester of college. He’d never seen her wear the same dress or blouse twice. “What’s next, we’re gonna build her a bigger closet—don’t get any ideas,” He added hastily when she turned around to speak.</p><p>Historia frowned, walking away.</p><p>But Eren understood where she was coming from. The dresser was another refurbished piece of furniture, this one plucked from a garage sale close to their block. Poor thing had survived three kids, though Eren suspected it was more than they let on. They’d painted it over when they got it to match the rest of Ymir’s sandalwood furniture but it was time for it to kick the bucket. She had too many clothes. Historia knocking things off a list.</p><p>Something had been gnawing at him since he woke up this morning, though. <em>Would</em> they have more kids? He’d always wanted two—not before thirty, but things happened. Historia came from a large, middle class family. She babysat, loved teaching, generally loved being around children. Ymir had been a surprise, and though Historia never had a thought to give her up, Eren had a feeling Historia wouldn’t be down for another one. At least not within the next year or any time soon. He shouldn’t be wondering about that right now. She was more focused on getting her dancing career back, and he respected that. He was content with Ymir, for now.</p><p>His one-year-old slapped his cheeks, suddenly upright at attention. “Dada!” She announced, and made some indistinguishable words. Eren followed her stretched arm, the grubby finger pointing to a line of baskets loaded with teddy bears, plastic balls, pairs of socks. Weird arrangement for the Living Room showcase, but whatever. It took a second to figure out which one she was pointing at.</p><p>Eren picked up the baby blue teddy bear. Not exactly a Care Bear but something like that, he guessed. Ymir made a face. He tried the pink elephant. Another face, along with a raspberry that produced bubbles. Eren grinned.</p><p>“Don’t you think she has enough stuffed animals, Eren?” Historia called from across the way, a disapproving look on her face.</p><p>“Well, I dunno, Historia,” He called back, some people looking at them. “do you think you have enough purses?”</p><p>Her face melted into a cute frown. She put whatever white box she’d grabbed back on the shelf. He didn’t want to know what she’d been looking at, but the cart was still shockingly vacant. Eren had to give her some props for restraint. Motherhood changed her in more ways than one.</p><p>“That’s… not the same thing. I use all of them. Eventually.”</p><p>“You sure about that? ‘Cause I could probably dig up about five in our closet that haven’t seen the light of day since you bought them.”</p><p>“Like I said: <em>eventually!</em>”</p><p>Eren rolled his eyes, laughing. Ymir giggled, hugging the giraffe he’d chosen to her chest. She nuzzled back into him, chomping and slobbering on one of the stumps.</p><p>He met up with Historia back in the main path, the three of them trudging behind a pack of people Eren honestly wanted to kick to get them moving faster. They were <em>almost</em> there. The Bedroom showcase merged into the Bathroom, brimming with more models way too fancy to fit in regular houses. Toilets that looked expensive. Tubs. Blinding white sinks. Showerheads. Endless aisles for towels with names he couldn’t begin to pronounce. Robes.</p><p>Eren squinted at one of the models as they passed. There’d be no stopping here, but the dull-blue seashell curtains wrapping around the porcelain tub with gold-clawed feet looked so… familiar. Then, it hit him.</p><p>“I remember that tub!”</p><p>Historia followed his eyes. She shuddered. “Oh, God,” She moaned. “It’s still here. Same sink and <em>everything</em>.”</p><p>“Yeah!” Eren exclaimed. “You made me get in there to check if I could fit—even though I told you I wouldn’t.” He poked her head.</p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” Historia swat his hand away, leaned on her forearms, grumbling, “I didn’t make you get in there. I asked you to.”</p><p>“Okay. You gonna ask me to get in another one?”</p><p>“Nah. I told you, we’re only here for the crib.”</p><p>“And the dresser. And maybe a bed.”</p><p>“Yes. No bathroom stuff.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>She peered up at him with coy eyes and dark lashes. “But… I mean… If you wanna look…”</p><p>“No. Another time. I want those cinnamon rolls.”</p><p>“And you’ll get ‘em,” She smirked. “Relax.”</p><p>Though they weren’t checking anything out, that fact didn’t stop Historia from eyeing some of the fluffy robes. She reached out, touched the fabric draped on the boxy mannequins. Ymir followed her mother’s lead, but Eren moved away, much to her dissatisfaction. She had a penance for yanking, and he did not want to explain to the security guard in the area why his one-year-old refused to let go. She loved to fist his hair in particular—Carla said it was karma for all the years he’d done it to her—so Eren wore it up almost all the time now.</p><p>Finally at their destination, the Ariana Grande song fading into <em>The Lion King’s</em> “Hakuna Matata”, Eren switched Ymir to his other arm, flexing his used arm.</p><p>Historia noticed, eyes catty, and pat the seat. “Why don’t you take a break and put her down?”</p><p>He sneered at her. “So she can start crying again like all these other heathens?” Actually, most of them were pretty quiet. “No way. She’s an <em>example</em>.”</p><p>She rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine how you’ll be when she goes off to daycare.”</p><p>“I don’t want to imagine.”</p><p>Historia cast him a withering look. “Me neither.”</p><p>She careened the cart, eyes on the aisles of dressers, some of them displayed on the walls. Didn’t take long for Historia to select one that was nearly the same coloring as the furniture in Ymir’s room, four tiers. She checked the price, typed something on the phone and zipped off, not even bothering to take a look at the other models. He always liked that about her—when she knew what she wanted, that was it.</p><p>Eren started noticing a pattern, trailing after her, taking in the furniture flanking both sides of room. “Hey, wait a minute,” He said, eyeing the shelves, the white boxes. “How exactly do we get this stuff?”</p><p>“There’s a warehouse at the bottom of this place.”</p><p>“You mean, a basement.”</p><p>Historia groaned at his correction, still moving forward. “Basement, whatever. Anyway, you write down what you want or you list it on the app, and then we have to go pick it up after we eat.”</p><p>“… <em>We</em> have to pick it up?” He repeated.</p><p>“Yeah?” Her brow rose. “Don’t you remember them telling us that the last time we came here? Nothing’s changed.”</p><p>“Why can’t they bring it to us?”</p><p>“I dunno, Eren,” She shrugged. “I don’t work here.”</p><p>“Well, me neither, so why do <em>we</em> have to set it up?”</p><p>Historia bat her lashes, coy. “If you have a problem assembling it, we could always—”</p><p>“No, fu—screw that,” He cut in. “Don’t you <em>dare</em> say you’ll call Jean.”</p><p>Historia pulled her lips into a line, her brightening cheeks betraying just how much she wanted to laugh.</p><p>“That one time was only a fluke, okay?” He deadpanned.</p><p>She struggled. “... W—Which one of the many?”</p><p>He flushed, pressing his cheek into Ymir’s hair, her sprouting ponytail tickling his nose.</p><p>Historia burst into a giggle, leaning into him, wrapping an arm around his waist, squeezing him.</p><p>“It’s not funny, Historia,” He muttered. “At least I <em>try</em>.” He frowned deeper when she continued to rack with laughter into his shoulder, his neck, remembering those early afternoons when she’d just moved on, Eren in the sparsely furnished living room, trying to assemble the TV stands, hammering and drilling his fingers into a bleeding mess. His fingers sure hadn’t forgotten, could remember the taste of that hammer.</p><p>What could he say—his hands were meant for holding kids, not dealing with heavy-duty appliances. He would’ve been a shitty engineer. Maybe that had been another sign.</p><p>“You gotta admit I do a pretty good job for losing the instructions,” He tried. “Or reading them upside down.”</p><p>Historia kissed his cheek. “I love you, Eren—even when you’re being a huge pain in my ass.” She tugged on his bun. “Never change.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. I love you, too,” He covered Ymir’s ears. “And would you stop cursing in front of her—damn! I want her to be a properly lady!”</p><p>“Da…” Ymir started. “Da… Mm...” She kept trying. “Da…”</p><p>His jaw dropped. Historia howled in laughter.</p>
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